Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Harper narrowly survived the ninety-plus minutes of the full makeover she was subjected to after arriving at the Riviera mansion with Roman and Finn. She felt as if she were the girl from the Princess Diaries movies and not in a good way.
As soon as they had stepped foot onto the sprawling estate, she could tell by the tenseness radiating from his body that Roman was fighting the urge to pin her to his side.
She knew he’d wanted to wrap a protective arm around her waist, but Roman still held out hope they could convince his uncle that Harper was nothing more than a work friend.
And if she clung to him for dear life when facing a wolf like Luciano, that’d probably be a dead giveaway, though she’d been tempted once they walked through the opulent double doors, and his scrutinizing stare was pointed her way.
You’ll both need to change into more appropriate clothing, especially you. Luciano had tipped his chin in Harper’s direction.
She’d spied Roman’s hand become a fist, and Finn had even taken a bold step forward, but before it could escalate any further, Luciano snapped his fingers, and three women materialized out of nowhere, whisking Harper away despite Roman’s protests.
Apparently, by “clothing,” Luciano had meant that Harper needed a head-to-toe makeover because she spent the next hour and a half getting her hair and makeup done.
The trio of women led her to a room that looked like it belonged in a high-end salon instead of in the devil’s lair.
Flamenco music played quietly from the in-ceiling speakers, and Harper was almost relaxed, as strange as it had seemed, until she caught bits and pieces of what the women were saying about Roman.
League of his own.
Hot as sin.
He must be an animal in bed.
She tried not to roll her eyes at their superficial comments because there truly weren’t enough words to describe how ridiculously good looking he was. But to her, it was his heart, his mind, his kindness and everything on the inside that made him the man she loved.
After hair and makeup, the three Roman superfans had all but forced Harper into their outfit of choice. Who wanted to wear a suit on a long flight? And yet, she’d found herself in a red pantsuit by Alexander McQueen paired with a black silk top and black Gianvito Rossi suede stiletto sandals.
Her brother was always pushing her to buy nice things like what she was wearing now. Not that she’d have known the brands had she not read the labels.
But she had to admit, she was rocking the outfit, especially considering Finn had slipped out a hot damn.
And when she’d joined Roman in the foyer after she’d been through the beauty wringer, his gaze swept over her in one long, fluid motion from head to toe before he schooled his features.
He didn’t want her near his uncle, and the outfit most likely made Roman feel like she had a bright red target on her.
She hadn’t been too focused on his reaction since she was busy staring at him. She’d overheard the stylists say he’d be dressed in Tom Ford and Brioni for the weekend. She had no idea which suit he wore now, but it had to cost at least three grand. Maybe even ten. It fit him to absolute perfection.
Everything was black—pants, shirt, tie, and jacket, which had notched lapels and two horned buttons. It was a classic fit and James Bond elegant, and she knew he hated it. But he did look smoking hot, and well, almost more dangerous than when he wore face paint and carried a rifle on an op.
His thick, luscious hair had been styled, and the strands artfully teased a little off to the right. And if they weren’t under Luciano’s scrutiny, she would have tripped in her heels in a rush to get to him. To climb into his arms and strip that suit right off.
“You okay?” Finn nudged Harper in the side, drawing her mind back into the cabin of the private plane and out of the fantasies she was on the verge of spinning.
They’d been on Luciano’s Boeing Business Jet for nearly two hours now and still had a long night ahead of them.
It was hard not to allow her thoughts to fixate on something happier, and Roman going down on her always had made her freaking deliriously happy.
The things the man could do with his tongue were downright sinful.
She inwardly grimaced. Wrong word when they were on a plane with Lucifer himself.
She’d done her best not to interact with Luciano, Carmen, or the few other people accompanying Luciano on the flight.
It’d been fairly easy to put some distance between herself and them since the plane was like a Mini Air Force One, a luxury motorhome with wings.
She wouldn’t be surprised if Roman’s lecherous uncle didn’t have missiles built-in for a just-in-case moment, too.
Twenty minutes ago, though, Luciano had requested a seat change.
Roman was now across from Harper and Finn, and he was wedged between Luciano and Carmen. She suspected something was up, based on the devilish glances Luciano kept shooting her way in the last few minutes.
Luciano had said he’d moved up their departure time because of a change in his schedule, but Roman hadn’t believed him.
He thought the new arrival time was more than likely connected to whatever business Luciano was going to conduct in Cape Town, business he wanted to drag Roman into, or maybe because Talon had made contact and requested a new timeline.
“I’m okay,” she finally answered Finn in a whisper, remembering he’d poked her with his elbow a moment ago.
But Carmen won’t be soon if she doesn’t stop shifting in her seat to get closer to my man.
She’d gone so far as to set her palm on his thigh, the bitch.
Roman had turned his head, glared at her, and promptly removed her touch.
Harper had no idea why that woman needed to come on the trip, but she was sure it was God’s way of testing her. Testing her not to kill someone.
Carmen was in a gold wrap dress that showcased her almost-too-perfect breasts, and when she crossed her legs, she allowed the material to slide high up her thigh as if hoping to draw Roman’s eyes.
But no, the only person Roman was looking at right now was Harper. Steady, focused, and raging beneath that suit. Mapping out an extraction plan and calculating odds. On the brink of grabbing her and parachuting right out of that plane.
Harper tore her gaze from Roman for a brief second to steal a look at Finn next to her.
He was reading a magazine he’d found on the plane.
Men’s Health, but the Spanish edition. Ironically, there was a picture of John Krasinski on the cover, the actor the guys liked to tease Finn that he resembled. Maybe a younger John?
Finn had a thick beard due to his competition with Asher to grow the fullest one in the shortest amount of time. They refused to let Roman participate in the contest because he’d win, hands down.
Tonight, Finn had opted to dress casually instead of in a “bodyguard” suit like he’d worn the night they were supposed to meet Ezra. Now, he had on a black tee, jeans, a ball cap, and leather boots. Casual boots, not his let’s-hunt-a-bad-guy ones.
Finn may have been reading a magazine, but she knew he was well aware of his surroundings. Constantly eyeing the passengers, particularly Luciano’s two armed guards.
Aside from the guards, there was another man in a suit who she learned was Antonio. Surprisingly, Roman seemed to like him.
Also, much to Harper’s dismay, two of the stylists had transformed into flight attendants, and they seemed more like full-time employees for Luciano who did whatever he wanted. The blonde had gone out of her way to ensure Roman was comfortable since they’d taken off, too.
This was all a game for Luciano. From the moment they left his mansion, he’d been testing Roman.
His comments from the second they saw him tonight were meant to rile Roman up.
To get him to react. But so far, Roman had maintained his resolve.
From the looks of it, it took a lot of jaw clenching to do it.
They did need to stay focused, though, especially with the possibility Roman’s uncle had Talon Fox on speed dial.
She hated that they wouldn’t be able to talk to their teammates to get an update while in the air.
She was anxious to hear how Luke and Jessica’s conversation had gone with the President in regard to visiting Will in the CIA black site, the diet version of Gitmo, especially when they’d have to reveal it was possible their trip could result in a prison break if they weren’t careful.
She’d have to wait until they landed in Cape Town and had a moment without watchful eyes to call for an update.
Wyatt was on a plane back to the States, as was Natasha, and Harper knew the rest of their teammates would handle anything that may come up.
She returned her eyes to Roman, and he mouthed, “I’m sorry,” accompanied by a forlorn look.
She sent him a tiny nod, worried Luciano would catch them staring at each other.
God, I love you so much. Did Roman know he’d uttered those words to her earlier in that passionate and intense moment in her bedroom at the hotel?
Roman began to loosen his tie, and it had Harper wishing she could remove her heels, but that’d feel a bit too casual and awkward on Luciano’s plane.
“Heading to the bar area,” Harper announced and abruptly stood, needing a break from being under the watch of both Luciano and Carmen. Last she remembered, Antonio was at the bar, though.
“Bring me back a cognac.” Luciano’s harsh, dark eyes met hers, and head-to-toes chills cut across her skin beneath her suit.
“I’ll go with you.” Roman started to rise, but Luciano shot his arm out, and Roman did something shocking. He followed the command. He hesitated a second, most likely calculating the risks of disobeying an order, but he slowly sank into his seat, keeping his eyes on Harper the entire time.